At the Bottom of a Hill
by Windimere Wellen
Summary: What appears to be a random attack ends Sam and G at the bottom of an embankment.
1. Chapter 1

A little Callen & Sam adventure.

Sometime in Season 2.

Let me know what you think.

Lady Winter

* * *

Sam glanced over at his partner as he drove down the isolated stretch of highway in the late afternoon sun. G Callen was leaned back in the Challenger's seat, head resting against the door frame, dark aviator sunglasses masking his eyes. It was a warm day, but G seemed to be soaking in the sun. He didn't seem at all bothered that his black polo was attracting the sun's rays.

Sam grinned a little. One rarely saw G Callen so relaxed – so secure. Sure, Callen was good at pretending to be relaxed and looking at ease, but anyone that knew him well enough knew that he was always watching, always on edge – always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even at the office.

Sam counted it as a real compliment that the other agent trusted him enough to look so exposed.

"What are you staring at?" G groused in what sounded like a sleepy tone, but Sam didn't believe for one minute that Callen was nodding off.

"You, sleeping beauty. It's time you got some rest."

"I sleep plenty Sam," Callen retorted in a wounded way. Sam snorted. They both knew it was a lie. G had crashed on Sam's couch enough for the former Navy SEAL to know that G hardly slept at all – more like cat-napped, and then spent the rest of the time wandering, touching, and often destroying.

No wonder Callen barely had anything in his house.

"You hardly sleep at all, G," Sam admonished.

"Haven't we had this mother hen conversation?"

"Yes – and I thought we both came to the conclusion that a little mothering couldn't hurt you."

G shifted a little, and although Sam couldn't see his eyes, he could picture G arching an eyebrow, and he could see the little grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I think that's a conversation you may have had with Hetty. Or Nate. Or both. Not me."

Sam sighed out a laugh. "Have you always been this stubborn?"

"It's only an act I put on for you," Callen replied with a dismissive wave as he straightened up in his seat.

Sam let the comment slide, mostly because in a way, he was a little afraid it was true. G Callen had been many things in his life – he had lived more Legends than many operatives had and that often made Sam wonder. Who was G Callen, really? Every time he thought he really knew his partner and friend, something would crop up – like Tracey – his "ex-wife." Sam understood that past assignments and past legends weren't something you simply discussed, but every now and then, something from the past would come back to rattle Callen's cage – and Sam was left reeling a little, wondering how much of his G Callen was the real G Callen.

It was something that he normally chose not to think about – something he compartmentalized, along with things like how it felt to support G's body as he bled out on a sidewalk in Venice, oranges destroyed by bullets leaking juice around them, making the air fragrant as Sam tried to will his partner to live. He liked to keep all of that neatly tucked away.

Sometimes he still had nightmares about it though. He didn't tell G that.

"Starting to get hungry, Sam," Callen warned in as whiny as a tone as he got, and he shifted again in his seat – impatient as always. Callen wasn't a person that sat still easily.

"Eat a sucker," Sam murmured, searching the cubby between the seats for the bag of tootsie pops he kept there to entertain G. He managed to free one from the bag, saw it was orange and knew G would be pleased. A moment later, G had the sucker in his mouth, wrapper tucked away for Sam for some later date. In a lot of ways, Sam couldn't help but think that G reminded him of his kids.

Sam just shook his head with amusement.

He liked days like these – where the sun was out and nothing was terribly pressing. They were still on a case, but they weren't racing against a clock or preparing to go into armed conflict.

Instead, they were on their way to an impound yard about sixty miles outside of LA where local police had impounded seven identical Ford Fusions that NCIS believed were being used to smuggle guns and sensitive information in and out of local Navy bases. Callen had tasked Kensi and Deeks with hunting down the two Navy Midshipmen and a civilian who's names the cars were registered to. Then he and Sam had set off to actually look at the cars.

Sam had to admit, it was a beautiful day for a drive as they climbed slowly in elevation, the four lane highway they were on largely disused.

They had been riding in companionable silence for a while, and Sam had been occasionally glancing over at G to see what kind of progress he was making with the sucker when he noticed a subtle change in body posture.

Callen turned his head to the right, ever so slightly and the muscles in his forearm tightened.

Sam had seen that behavior before – G was watching something intently without trying to be obvious about it. The way his arm muscles bunched mimicked just how they would look if he was holding his Sig.

"What is it G?" he asked, his voice dropping.

"We're being followed," G responded, sounding mildly surprised and irritated. "Blue Suburban. It's been back there a while…but…"

"You sure you're not just being paranoid?" Sam asked carefully.

Callen scoffed. "Me, paranoid?" His tone was light, but Sam saw his trigger finger twitch a little. "I could be wrong," he admitted. "…but they've been hanging back there a while. No reason to on a road this empty, considering you're doing the speed limit."

"Not everyone speeds, G," Sam pointed out wryly, but he knew that it was unlikely G was wrong about this. His partner had a lifetime of watching over his shoulder and knowing when there was danger and when there wasn't.

"True…" Callen agreed as they came around a bend onto a relatively flat stretch. There were no other cars in sight, and the side of the highway was fringed with small trees and bushes. They were on the inside lane, which had an embankment flanking it, but on the opposite side of the road, the embankment went down a relatively steep hill. "Here they come," G said suddenly, his voice ratcheting up.

"Think we should call it in?" Sam asked, just as he heard the roar of the powerful engine that was driving the Suburban.

"No time," Callen replied, and he was right because just then, the Suburban pulled even with them on the passenger side. "He's got a gun!" G warned, and for a moment – Sam had déjà vu. The SUV was different – not even the right color, but he clearly remembered seeing a man hanging out a black SUV, semi-automatic weapon in hand, gunning G down on the street.

The lapse cost him and he was a little slower than usual to mash his foot down on the accelerator. G was reaching for the glove box to retrieve his Sig, but it was all too late.

The driver opened fire on the Challenger and G swore loudly as glass shattered all around him. Adrenaline pumped through Sam's veins as everything seemed to slow.

Sam had been in a car accident before, but never one cause by gun fire. He could hear the soft thumping as bullet after bullet struck the Challenger broadside. G had slid down a little in his seat, but he was still a prime target as the gun continued firing. Sam couldn't see it, but he could imagine the flame at the muzzle of the weapon even as the front tire blew and the car jerked sharply, and the reaction was made worse by the speed of the Challenger.

It took all of Sam's strength to wrestle the wheel, but the car careened into the opposite lane and then skidded across three feet of gravel, and then it went over. The next few seconds felt like an eternity as the car turned on it's side, barrel rolling down the steep embankment and Sam's forehead smashed into the steering wheel and the world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for all of your reviews! They really, truly spur me on! The more I saw, the more I wanted to write! Hopefully this will meet with your expectations.

Lady Winter

* * *

The first thing that Sam was aware of was the sound of running water.

It took more than a minute to focus as his sharp mind tried to figure out just what was going on.

Nothing felt quite right, and he finally forced himself to open his eyes.

The view that greeted him was a surprise.

He was still sitting in his seat in the Challenger, but the whole car was cock-eyed and the driver's side was half up in the air. The windshield was a massive spider web – the glass having half come out the front of the vehicle in an odd looking, unbreakable mess. Beyond the glass, were trees, back lit by the setting sun and there was the distinct sound of running water.

"Crashed," Sam muttered, and then it came back in a flood. "G!"

He remembered everything then. The relaxing, sun soaked ride, the normal banter between himself and Callen – and then the Suburban and the gun – and then the crash.

Sam twisted in his seat, the seat belt holding him in – probably having saved his life and his chest ached where the belt cut across him and he winced.

As the sun was going down, it was darker in the car than he liked, and that wasn't helped by the trees that were casting more shadows, but he could still see his partner.

The passenger side of the Challenger was obviously resting on the ground and G was lying against the door, not moving. Sam thanked God that he could see the seat belt, still around Callen's body – it wasn't often that the other agent chose to wear one.

"G! Callen!" he called urgently, trying to figure out just how to get to his partner. When it was clear that if he released the seat belt, he'd fall directly on G, he gave up that idea, and for a moment, forced himself to be still. Then he peered down at Callen and waited until his eyes adjusted and he could see his partner's chest moving – indicating he was alive if nothing else.

Sam couldn't help the sigh of relief, but he didn't like the fact that Callen was entirely motionless. "G! Come on man, wake up," he called, and was pleased when his calls were met by a soft groan.

"Stop shouting…"

Sam wanted to laugh.

"G, you ok man?"

He waited as he watched G shift, ever so slightly. He could see his best friend realizing that he was basically lying on his side, up against the door.

"And Hetty says I'm a lousy driver," G muttered, pressing one hand against the door and pushing, only to hiss in barely concealed pain.

"Callen!" Sam said, voice tight from worry. G turned his head finally, making eye contact with Sam and the former SEAL saw that the right side of G's face was sheeted in drying blood and that he had contusions all over his face – no doubt from the shattered glass.

"You don't look so good, big guy," Callen said slowly. "You ok?" The concern was heavy in his voice and for the first time, Sam stopped to consider if he was injured.

"Yeah, hit my head," Sam admitted. "Are you ok?"

Callen paused for a moment. "Something doesn't feel right…" he admitted and Sam could see him squirm a little and there was another hiss of pain. G swore softly, almost angrily.

"What is it?" Sam asked; dread creeping up through his stomach.

"Problem," G admitted. "I think I've been shot."

"You think you've been shot?" Sam demanded, anger racing through him like fire. He forced himself to focus, eyes roving over G – and that was when he could make out a dark, wet spot on Callen's right thigh and his eyes tracked to the door that G was leaning against. He counted several holes where bullets had passed through the car.

Callen's eyes were on him, worry evident, and Sam suddenly realized that G was scrutinizing him, searching his body for injuries – for gunshot wounds. Sam blinked then looked down, searching his own body. He was surprised to find no gaping, bleeding wounds.

"A bunch of bullets came through, and of course you had to get in the way of one of them," he said bitterly, and Callen looked shocked. Sam was apologetic right away, but there were other things on his mind. "It is only one, G, right?" he demanded suddenly.

Wouldn't it just be like G Callen to minimize something so serious. Callen shot him a dangerous glare.

"Yes Sam, just one." The reply was biting, but Sam couldn't blame him.

They were lying at the bottom of a ravine, their car was shot up, maybe leaking gas, wedged in between some trees, they were both clearly injured – and G had been shot.

"Call Hetty," G ordered harshly, obviously angry.

"Fine, I will," Sam said and reached for his phone – only to come up empty. He looked around wildly, the seatbelt still holding him in place, the pain worsening every time he moved. "It's gone," he said, all trace of irritation towards G melting away. "I must have lost it when we rolled down the hill," he admitted.

G grunted in acknowledgment and began to move, slow and stiff, and Sam saw him flinch when he put some weight on his right shoulder that was leaning against the door. The crash had most definitely banged his partner up.

Slowly, painfully, Callen got one hand down in between the door and where his phone was in his pocket. He swore again when he had to shift his weight, which required moving the leg that had been shot. Finally, after what seemed like a difficult struggle, the phone slipped free.

In the increasing darkness, Sam could just make out the flash of surprise on Callen's face before a grim smile appeared. "I found out where another one of those bullets went," he said, and with his left hand, he offered the phone up to Sam. Sam took the phone, noting how badly G was shaking with the exertion of giving it to him.

A bullet was firmly imbedded in the center of the phone. It had obviously saved Callen another ugly bullet wound, but it robbed them of a way to communicate.

"That's going to leave a bruise G, and I think Hetty will be surprised that iPhones double as body armor."

Callen chuckled, but it sounded a little weak, and in the diminishing light, Sam could see that his partner was flagging. The struggle to get the phone had been too much. There was no way for Sam to tell just how much blood Callen had lost, or just how badly he was injured. Just the fact that Callen hadn't already attempted to escape the car was worrying.

If Sam was honest with himself, he wasn't even sure how badly he himself was hurt. Adrenaline was still racing through his body, making it hard to tell just what hurt and what didn't. The one thing he did know was that they really had to get out of there.

He was just about to say so to G when he realized his partner was too quiet. G had gone back to resting his head on the door frame, jagged glass inches from his face, and his blue eyes were closed again.

"G?" Sam called.

"Just need a minute, Sam," Callen tried to reassure him, but his voice held a slurred edge.

Sam swore to himself. "Not another concussion, G. Hetty is going to kill me. She told me like two weeks ago that it's my express job to keep you from damaging that valuable brain you have by not banging it around inside your skull…" He had hoped to get some sort of reaction out of the normally vibrant agent, but G just grunted a little. The story was true, but that didn't matter now. "Callen – you have to stay awake. If you have a concussion, you can't fall asleep. You hear me? G!"

There was no answer forth coming and this time, Sam swore out loud. "Don't do this to me G! Once was enough!" Still, he got no reaction. Sam lifted his right hand to check his watch, wanting to know just how long it had been since the accident, but his watch had been smashed in the crash. At least he knew exactly what time it had been – 4:18pm.

Hetty wouldn't be expecting them to check in until at least 7, but she might not worry until 8. Sam looked out through the broken glass at the last of the burning red sun as it dipped towards the ocean. The sun had been setting just after 6:30 these days – which meant that for two hours, he and G had been lying in the wrecked car – and G had been shot.

The former SEAL knew he couldn't waste any more time – he had to move. He had to stop G from bleeding out and he had to get them out of the car – especially before the temperatures dropped. Then he would have to get them back up to the road and find help. The only comfort he had was how alert Callen had been earlier – if the bullet had hit an artery, chances are, G would already have been dead. It also made sense that the bullet had slowed as it had passed through the door, so it was most likely still in Callen's leg and was probably acting like a cork of sorts.

At least that gave him a place to start. He had a plan. Get free of the seatbelt, try not to land on his injured partner while performing that act, and get Callen as patched up as possible.

Then he'd move to stage two.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 –

Thanks again for all the reviews – they definitely encourage me!

-Lady Winter

* * *

Sam held onto the ceiling handle tightly with his left hand as he sawed away at the seatbelt with the knife he always carried. He had his right knee braced against the center console, and his muscles were tense. The very last thing he wanted was to cut the belt and land on Callen.

It felt like an eternity had passed since G had lapsed back into unconsciousness, most likely caused by a concussion, and Sam was starting to get edgy. It had taken too long to get the knife and too long to move so he was properly braced.

Luckily, the knife was sharp – and the belt gave way fairly quickly. As soon as it let go, all of his muscular weight came crashing down onto his knee and the pain that lanced through his chest when his left hand kept a firm grip was enough to pull a muffled cry from the former SEAL. He winced as he rode the pain out.

"Sam?" The call was soft, and for a moment, Sam thought he imagined it in the roaring in his ears, but then he realized it was G.

"G? You back with me?" he asked hopefully.

"You ok?" G replied, his voice sounding drained and anxious.

"Maybe a broken rib or two," Sam admitted, his head starting to ache at the movement, but now that he was free, he had to see to his injured partner.

"Gotta get you out of here, then," Callen said, his voice lazy in a way Sam didn't like – but despite the concussion, G seemed to be thinking like his normal self.

"Let's worry about you first, ok?" Sam said in response and using all of his strength to hold his body the way he wanted it, he carefully moved so that he could put one foot down on the passenger side door frame of the car where the window had been. The minute he put his weight down, the car shifted, the metal groaning as it tipped away from the tree it had been leaning on, rocking further onto the passenger side.

Callen tried to stifle a groan of pain as he shifted with the car, his injured leg being pressed further into the door.

Sam froze, pulling his upper body back up, but unfortunately, the car rocked back the way it had been and moved G again. This time, Callen bit his tongue to keep from crying out, but Sam could see the grimace of pain on his face even in the dusky darkness filling the car.

"G, I'm so sorry…" he said quickly.

"Don't apologize," G replied, his voice rough. "At least the pain clears my head," he said, trying to make Sam feel better, but that worried Sam worse. Still, an alert Callen was better than the alternative.

Sam said nothing, thinking for a minute on how to proceed.

As usual, Callen was impatient. "Sam, you can't hang up there all day."

"If I come down there, I'm going to rock the car again, G. And that's clearly not good for you."

"What are you going to do then? Fly out of here on fairy wings?" G teased, and it would have been very normal if G hadn't been lying on what was now the 'bottom' of the car bleeding. "Let's just get it over with. You have to come down. I can see you're in pain."

As usual, G was right. The strain from hanging there was burning fire through his ribs, making it a little hard to breath.

"Alright," he finally agreed. "But if you tell Hetty that I purposefully hurt you, I'm going to repeat this conversation word for word, and tell her you called me a fairy," he griped. He was rewarded with a tired smile from G – which was exactly what he'd been hoping for. "And don't even get me started about what I'll do to you if you mention this to Nate – he'll say something about how you hurt the people you love the most," he continued to grouse, but he lowered his body, hoping the distraction would be enough to help Callen ride out the pain.

It wasn't.

When he finally settled all his weight on the frame of the car, it did just what he'd expected, it settled directly onto its side, a good two foot drop and it jarred them both when it finally landed. Sam had something to hold onto to brace himself, but G was forced to ride it out.

His stifled grunt of pain made Sam's heart beat faster.

"G, you still with me?" he asked as he balanced, releasing his grip on the handle slowly, waiting to see if the car would move further, despite the fact that the passenger side window was now filled with grass and dirt.

"I think I've had enough of the amusement park rides," his partner grunted, his breathing sharp.

As soon as Sam was convinced the car wasn't going to move again, he crouched. It was made easier because he could now literally stand on the ground – both feet where the glass of the passenger side window should have been. G was still laying on his side, now in an almost fetal position, his head resting against the door frame, his body lying on the door itself.

It was a tight squeeze for a big guy like Sam to be crouching where he was, and he was most definitely in Callen's personal space.

It was almost completely dark in the car by then, and Sam fought with the glove box until he could get it open, careful to avoid hitting G's legs in the process. After a few seconds searching, his hand closed over G's Sig and then he found the distinctive round shaft of the flashlight he kept in there. He pulled both items out, and knowing it would give G comfort, he pressed the gun down into his partner's hands.

Callen didn't say anything, but he grunted in thanks. Sam twisted until the Maglite sprang to life.

Both he and Callen squinted for a moment or two as their eyes adjusted to the new light.

"You look like hell," G said before Sam had the chance to say the same thing. The former SEAL smiled ruefully.

"Look who's talking."

It took just a few seconds for Sam to realize that G was more than a little banged up. The blood that was sheeting his face had come from a nasty laceration on the side of G's head – and from the way the area was swollen, it was also clear that his concussion diagnosis was correct. As he'd seen before, his partner's face and forearms were covered in tiny lacerations from the shattered glass. The way G was lying, it looked as if his shoulder might also have been dislocated, but Sam was reluctant to move him to find out just yet. The light from the flash light tracked down to Callen's right leg. Blood saturated his jeans, but it looked to be drying, which was a good sign that the wound was only bleeding sluggishly now – and Sam could see no exit wound, which was good, otherwise Callen might have had a gunshot wound in both legs.

"First aid kit is in the trunk," he said in frustration.

"You think I need a first aid kit?" Callen joked.

"What you need is a doctor and a hospital, G," Sam said sternly.

"Look who's talking," G said, mimicking Sam's comment from earlier. In the light from the flashlight, G was carefully scrutinizing Sam for injuries now that he was up close.

"Cracked or broken ribs and a bad headache," Sam told his partner. He'd learned in the SEALs that you hid no injury from your team – or you were putting their lives at risk. Slowly, he'd been bringing Callen around to see that side of things, but it was still a work in progress.

"I think my arm's broken," G replied, trying to match Sam's honesty. Sam smiled in appreciation.

"And you have a concussion and you've been shot," Sam added.

"Thought we already talked about those things," G said dryly. Sam nodded. "We need to…get out of here. Get help."

"That's not going to be easy G – I don't know if you didn't notice – but the only way out is through the front window. I'm not sure you're in any shape to…"

G's stare silenced him.

"Ok, ok…we'll work on it. But first I need to stop the bleeding in your leg." Sam's tone of voice said there was no arguing this matter.

G nodded slightly and winced.

Sam looked around, wondering just what he could use to bind Callen's leg with. After a long few minutes, he saw G's duffel bag wedged in the back seat, and he carefully stood as far as the car would allow him, trying to get the bag without falling on G. Finally, he managed to get his hands on it, and opened it to see what was inside. He was pleased to find a t-shirt and pulled it out.

"Not that one Sam…I love that shirt."

"I'm pretty sure Hetty told you never to wear this anywhere near the office ever again. Something about it being contaminated?"

"She said it was filthy," G corrected, and Sam noted that his speech was starting to slur again.

"It's all we've got G – I'll buy you a new one," he promised.

G leveled his gaze, but finally blinked in what Sam hoped was his approval. Sam quickly ripped it into strips and then paused.

"This is going to hurt," he warned his partner. G gave a slight nod and Sam unfastened the seat belt, and G groaned softly. Sam hadn't thought to check and see if G's ribs had been hurt by the seatbelt like his had. G closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I have to roll you over," Sam warned. G opened his eyes briefly.

"Ok. Trust you," he told Sam tiredly. Sam nodded, his gut clenching. It wasn't going to be easy to get G on his back in the confined space, especially crouching right over him, but he didn't have much of a choice.

It would be something Sam would remember for a long time – how awkward and painful the whole process was. G's eyes were closed tightly, pain lines running through his face as he used his left hand to try to brace his right arm even as Sam moved him. When G let out a short cry of pain, Sam flinched. His partner was breathing heavily, trying to control the pain he was feeling.

When Sam put his hand under G's right knee to lift the injured leg, it proved too much, and G's head dipped to one side, the pain driving him over the edge. For a moment, Sam watched him, ascertaining that he had just passed out. Regretfully, he realized it was probably for the best and carefully examined his partner's leg.

The bullet had entered just above the knee, in the side and was embedded in muscle, but it was hard to tell if it had hit the bone. It was oozing slowly – dark red – so Sam wrapped it tightly to stem the bleeding. He wished he could cut the fabric away and properly dress the wound, but that was impossible.

When he was finally done, the silence was overwhelming. Only the short, soft breathing coming from G assured him that the other man was alive.

"We're going to get out of here G – just hang on."


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry about the delay – I hope this chapter will be thoroughly enjoyed.

I guess I should also point out that I'm no doctor and I don't understand all the finer points about the medical world, so please forgive me any inaccuracies in injuries or treatments. Thanks!

-Lady Winter

* * *

After G had passed out, Sam had stayed by his side, assessing his own injuries. He was fairly certain only one rib was broken – but he had to admit he might have a concussion to match Callen's. Other than that, he was achy and his head was pounding, but he was in better shape than his partner.

Once he was convinced that he was going to be ok, he started to try to more thoroughly examine G, but the space was too cramped, and he just couldn't move enough.

G had been right – they needed to get out of the car. That had been step two in the plan anyway now that he had seen to Callen's gunshot wound.

Sam rose up, standing as much as the car would let him and he examined the broken mass of windshield. It was hanging at an odd angle, held in only by some of the rubber that normally sealed it. How it hadn't come off completely was a miracle.

Sam fished around in G's duffel bag until he found a towel. He wrapped it around his hands and reached up to pry the windshield out of the front of the car. He wrestled with it for a minute or two, his movement limited because of being trapped, sideways in a car, but he finally was able to free it.

It came loose suddenly, and Sam dropped it. The glass crashed onto the ground and the car shook for a second and Sam felt fear tightening in his chest, afraid that the car would shift again and hurt G worse.

To his relief the Challenger stayed put.

Taking a deep breath, Sam glanced back at G. The agent was still unconscious, unmoving. Sam judged the opening of the windshield, and then delicately began to climb out. He held his breath, hoping that his antics wouldn't cause the car to move. At one point, he became stuck because of his limited mobility, but finally, his right foot touched the ground and he finished sliding out. His ribs hurt like crazy from moving that way, and instantly he wondered just how he was supposed to get G out of the car.

Callen was smaller and slimmer than he was – but still, it had taken some special contortionism to get out – and with how injured G was, he wasn't sure that was possible.

Once he was free of the Challenger, he looked around, flashlight still gripped tightly in one hand. The moon was half full and shed only a little light around him, but it was enough to see the path of destruction that the car had caused on its roll down the hill. Several small trees had been crushed and there was a wide swath of ripped up bushes and displaced dirt and stone.

The Challenger had come to rest initially up against an old Beach tree – and the impact had scarred the tree and Sam's car. The black car was now completely on the passenger side, its roof leaned up against the corner of a massive boulder – and Sam shivered as he realized how lucky they'd been to not hit the boulder.

His first thought was to check the bottom of the car, realizing he hadn't even considered a gas leak since he'd first woken up. He made his way around to the underside of the car, squeezing between the tree and the chassis. Miraculously, the gas tank was intact, though other parts of the undercarriage had been ripped away.

In total, the body damage was pretty bad.

"Lucky…" Sam muttered. He couldn't get over the fact that since he'd partnered with G Callen, he had escaped more near misses than ever. Somehow, they had managed to miss being killed more times than Sam could count, though there had been more than enough heart-pounding, fear raising moments.

This afternoon had been just one more in a long list. That got Sam wondering just who the shooter had been, and how it had even been possible to find them, out there on the road.

Was G the target? He certainly had a lot of enemies – people he knew and people he didn't know. But it had been Sam's assigned car – ever since G had wrecked the Mercedes S Class, he'd been practically in love with the Aston Martin Rapide that Hetty had replaced it with. They had argued for a few minutes before leaving earlier in the day over which car they were taking. Sam had won – but now he was wondering what would have happened if he'd let G drive instead.

That kind of thinking wasn't helping though – it could have been an attack against NCIS or it possibly could have even been random. There was just no way to know at the moment.

What Sam needed to focus on was getting out of there – and getting G to medical attention. By now, Hetty must have tried to contact them and would realize they were missing. The damage to the embankment looked pretty bad from the bottom, but there was no way of telling how bad it was at the top – there was always the chance that nothing looked disturbed – people could drive right past and not notice anything was wrong.

The highway had been relatively deserted as they'd cruised along it earlier in the day – Sam had picked that route because he knew it wasn't going to be congested in the way the new highway was. He wanted to kick himself for that decision now. If they'd taken the new, main route, this might never have happened.

Sam stood there, trying to focus. It would do him no good to place blame right now.

He scanned the embankment again – it was pretty steep – it would be a hard climb for him – and maybe impossible for G – provided Sam could even get him out of the car.

Sam hesitated at the bottom. Part of his instincts drove him to try to make the climb – to try to wave down help or maybe even find his phone (though that was probably a lost cause). The other half of him screamed that he couldn't leave G alone – not even for a little while. He was injured and virtually trapped in the car – and Sam had always been taught to stay with his partner no matter what. Together, you could help each other – alone, you increased the risk of neither of you getting out.

He had a feeling he knew exactly what G would say about the matter.

Still torn, Sam turned back to the Challenger and circled around the boulder to check out the trunk. He very badly wanted the first aid kit that was back there, but soon found that was a pipe dream. The whole back of the Challenger was basically crushed – only the Jaws of Life would be able to free the first aid kit from its final resting place.

"Great," the former SEAL muttered and made his way back to the front of the car. "Hetty will be looking for us," he reminded himself.

By now, the indomitable little woman would surely know something was wrong. It was part of the reason that Sam knew his phone was probably irrecoverable – he had been listening for it, hoping that it was in the car someplace. If it had been – it would have been ringing already. Hetty would have tried both himself and Callen – and when she got no response, like a good handler, she would start to worry.

The problem was, with G's phone basically destroyed and his phone missing, Eric would be unable to track their exact position – and although Sam didn't put it past Hetty to have put a GPS in the car, chances were it would have been damaged or destroyed in the crash – and since they always carried their phones, that was a much more reliable way to follow them.

Still, she knew where they were going, and there were only two main routes, but that still left lots of miles for them to search.

Which meant that more time would pass before they were found – and that left Sam wondering just what to do with G. He made his way back to the front of the car and peered inside. G was still on his back, head tipped to one side, eyes still closed. Shining the light down, Sam could just make out the gentle rise and fall of Callen's chest, proving that his partner was still breathing.

Sam sighed, examining the windshield opening and silently cursing just how impractical the Challenger was at this moment. Sure, it was fast – it was his style – and most of the time, it got the job done, but now, in a wreck, with it tipped on its side, he realized getting G out was going to be next to impossible.

It was a grim realization when Sam realized that his best chance at getting Callen out was to tip the car back the way it had shifted when he'd gotten out of his seat belt. Now that he was on the outside, he could see that getting G out the passenger side window would be his best bet. That would require rocking the car back onto the beach tree – which would require jostling G. Sam hated that idea.

For a moment, he toyed with leaving G in the car and just simply waiting for help to arrive, but the temperature was cooling as night arrived and they would stand a better chance of being rescued from the road, especially in the dark. They were close to civilization, but down in the gully they were in, they might as well have been in the middle of the ocean.

Decision made reluctantly, Sam poked his head in through the missing windshield.

"G? Can you hear me?" He waited a few moments, but got no response. "G!" he tried again, a little louder, but still, Callen didn't so much as twitch. Finally, Sam reached in with the long handled flash light and tapped G on the left foot, and almost instantly, his partner's eyes opened and his right hand twitched, reaching for his gun, but that was followed shortly by a muffled cry of pain as G rediscovered his broken right arm. "Hey! Take it easy, it's just me!" Sam urged.

He knew better than to wake Callen out of a dead sleep – he didn't have a death wish, but this was necessary, and G wasn't exactly in a position to shoot or assault him, accidentally or not.

Sam waited a moment until G's bleary eyes found his.

"Thought you didn't like it when I made you do all the hard work," G finally drawled, his voice weaker than before.

"Like I said, Sleeping Beauty, you need the rest," Sam said with a wan smile, still grateful that his partner was able to joke around, even if it was a coping mechanism. "But seriously, G, no more sleeping – you have a concussion."

Callen blinked at him owlishly for a moment, as if recalling the finer details of their situation. "You got out of the car."

"That's right, Captain Obvious," Sam said sarcastically, but he didn't mean it that way – and G didn't take it that way. "It was a fine use of my contortionist skills," he said with a grin.

"I'll tell Nate you're ready to join the ballet," G quipped tiredly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "If you do, I really will kill you this time. Seriously though, it wasn't easy – and to be honest, although I know you think you're Superman – or Batman – there's no way you're going to make it over the dash and out."

"I'm offended that you doubt my abilities Sam…" G said, but he didn't look like he was about to jump up and wiggle his way out. "Besides, I always viewed myself more like a Spiderman."

Sam snorted. "Well, considering you're my sidekick – I'd say you could be Robin or Suberboy or something."

G arched an eyebrow despite his distress. "Robin? Really? With the shorts and cape? You think you'd make a good Batman?"

If had been another situation, Sam would have groaned. G loved these types of debates - somehow, Sam figured it was because he'd missed out on a lot of this growing up. Secretly, Sam like the debates too.

"So, boy wonder – this is what we're going to do," Sam said patiently. "You're going to turn back on your side, and I'm going to push the car back up against the tree it was leaning on, and then I can get you out through the window."

G grimaced, clearly thinking of how much banging around that was going to do to his body.

"Dukes of Hazzard style, huh?" he said finally, and Sam chuckled.

"Let's not get started on that. You up for this or not?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

G nodded. "Alright," he said, all joking aside, the serious agent in him coming out to play.

Sam waited patiently as Callen awkwardly managed to turn back onto his right side, grunting softly in pain every few seconds, breathing hard. The task was made worse because of his broken arm and the bullet lodged in his leg, but after a few painfully long minutes, he was finally lying back on his side, just like he had been when Sam had first come to after the crash.

"I'll be as careful as I can," Sam promised his partner, and Callen gave him a little nod of understanding, but otherwise said nothing.

Sam moved then, taking the light with him, and he leaned against the Challenger a little, putting his weight into it. At first, the car didn't move, so Sam applied more pressure, straining to tip the car back.

When it finally moved, Sam knew there was absolutely nothing he could do as the car tipped back and thumped heavily against the tree, no doubt jarring Callen badly. Sam heard the cry of pain that G hadn't been able to hold back and he rushed back, having to drop down into a crouch to see in the passenger side window, now that it was up off the ground again.

G looked dazed, but he was somehow still awake, and his face was a mask of pain.

Sam cursed quietly – it was his intention to never hurt the people he worked with, even with the best of intentions. He knew this had been unavoidable and basically the only way to get G out, but that hardly made him feel better.

"G, you still with me?" he asked hesitantly.

It took a moment for G to turn his head back towards Sam, and when he did, his eyes were dark with pain, but he nodded just a little.

"I thought I said I was done with the theme park rides. And Sam – I'm nobody's sidekick."

Sam couldn't help but laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5! Rolling along quite nicely…

I appreciate all the reviews…and that everyone got the joke about Robin and Chris O'Donnell – I thought it would be kind of funny

Hope you enjoy this next installment.

-Lady Winter

* * *

Getting Callen out of the car had been trying for both NCIS agents.

Sam had been overwhelmed by guilt and frustration because there had been no easy way to perform the task.

Callen had been stubborn and cranky – insisting that he could at least get himself up onto the ledge of the window after Sam had cleared it of the remaining glass that was stuck in the door. Sam had argued with G over the wisdom and logistics of just how he was going to do that with a broken arm and a bullet in his legs, but Callen had blithely dismissed him.

After a long struggle, full of hard breathing and grunts of pain, Callen had managed to get himself up onto the window's edge, using only his left arm, left leg to push with, and sheer force of will.

Sam's stomach twisted as he listened to G try to catch his breath, the sound of air seeming to rattle out of Callen's chest. His partner sat on the window ledge, forehead resting on the roof of the Challenger, right arm tucked into his side in a protective way, left arm thrown over the back of his head in a resting manner. For a long while, he didn't move.

"Callen?" Sam questioned quietly after he couldn't stand just the silence and the odd whistling sound that permeated the air whenever Callen took a breath in.

"Just need a minute," G replied, his voice raspy.

"You've already had a minute, G. Several. You should have let me help."

"Should have, could have, would have…" Callen muttered. "It's done now," he pointed out.

"Always the pragmatist I see," Sam said darkly. Sometimes he truly hated G's independent personality. He understood that Callen had a long, hard childhood – and knew that if G hadn't learned how to take care of himself, by himself, at a very early age, he would have been dead or worse. That was good – and G was good at taking care of himself most of the time. What he wasn't good at was letting others help him when there was no need to go it alone.

This was one of those moments – one of those times that…"I wish you would just let me help you," Sam said, verbalizing his thoughts. Instantly, he regretted them. He never knew how G was going to handle such an admonition. Sometimes, G got quiet and didn't respond – other times he joked it away – and on a few occasions, he got mad.

"I do let you help me, Sam," Callen said tiredly. "But some things you have to do yourself – and I'm not talking about pride, ok? Don't take this the wrong way, Big Guy, but everything on my body hurts right now – and the only one I want manhandling myself is…me."

Sam stood there for a moment, stunned. He hadn't thought about that. He was so concerned with getting G out of the car that he had failed to realize that simply using his big hands and firm grip to accomplish that might not be the most comfortable thing for Callen.

G was taking his time because he could. Yes, they weren't in the best of situations, but no one was shooting at them, the car wasn't about to explode, and if they'd been in immediate danger, Sam would have already told Callen that – so in reality, rushing wasn't necessary.

Except that they were both hurt and Callen had a bullet in his leg.

"Sorry G, I didn't really think of it that way."

"Like I said, no big deal. I just need a minute," his partner replied in the tired, raspy voice that didn't sound right.

Sam fought the urge to pace as Callen mentally prepared himself for Sam getting him the rest of the way out of the car.

"Ok, Batman – let's do this," G finally said, sounding more confident than he looked.

"I promise I'll be gentle," Sam said in his most seductive voice.

G turned his head, smirking. "You have issues my friend."

Sam grinned at G, glad he'd been able to lighten the mood a little. "Just try to relax – I'll make it as smooth as possible."

Callen nodded, giving his permission.

Sam moved as efficiently and as carefully as possible, and he pulled G from the car, diligently following any instructions Callen gave him. Finally, he had G free of the car, and he was grateful for every moment that he worked out because he could at least physically able lift his smaller partner with his strength, even though his chests burned with each movement.

Relieved that he'd at least gotten Callen out of the car, he very gently carried G to a spot of rough grass under a tree and eased him down. G's face was white as a sheet and he was clutching his broken right arm with his left hand.

"Thanks," he rasped out, then squeezed his eyes shut tightly, obviously trying to block out the pain.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but I should really find something to splint your arm with – and I need to check on your leg again."

Callen groaned. "Are you trying to torture me? Are you channeling Hetty right now?" he demanded in a weak voice.

"Don't act so surprised that I want you to get out of this in one piece, G," Sam told him with a rueful smile. "I'll be right back, I'm going to check the car for anything else that might be useful."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Callen asked tiredly, but he never opened his eyes.

"That's a promise," Sam said, conviction in his voice as if with those words he could communicate that he was dedicated to getting Callen out of there alive and in as close to one piece as possible – it said more – that he wasn't going to let his partner down and that he wasn't going to abandon G for an instant.

The former SEAL didn't know why he expected those three words to carry so much meaning, but when G cracked one eye and looked at him in the light provided by the flashlight, Sam could have sworn that G had simply read his mind.

"Ok."

It was as close to an acknowledgement of his trust in Sam as he was going to get – but it was more than enough.

He moved back to the Challenger and peered back inside, shining the light around until he located G's duffle again and he carefully leaned in to retrieve it, noting with unease the dried blood on the side of the door. Forcing himself to focus, he looked around for something he could use to splint G's arm, but realized there wasn't much – a sling would have to do. What he did find was both of their coats and after a few minutes, he was able to retrieve them. It was getting colder – by no means freezing, but enough that they would be uncomfortable.

Sam didn't even want to think about what would happen if G went into shock – he was actually surprised that he hadn't already.

Lastly, he retrieved G's Sig and his own Berretta and found a bottle of Tylenol jammed in the back of the glove compartment.

Sam returned to Callen's side with his spoils from the car, and propped up the flashlight so he could see his partner in its narrow beam. Although he wasn't surprise, G hadn't moved and his eyes were still mostly closed, though he stared out lucidly at Sam from thin slits.

"I'm starving," he commented when Sam crouched next to him.

Of all things for G to say, that hadn't been what he was expecting. "Right. When was the last time we ate? Lunch?"

G blinked a little, and Sam took that to be an agreement.

"I'll get you one of the tootsie pops in a few minutes," Sam promised him.

"That's hardly the gourmet dinner of burgers and fries you promised me," Callen groused.

Sam chuckled. "You're the most fickle date I've ever had." He grew serious then after that. "You ready?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Sam just shook his head and rifled through Callen's duffle until he found what he was looking for – another t-shirt. When he pulled out his knife to slice it down the seam, G started to protest.

"Another one? Sam, I don't have all that many clothes…"

"Whose fault is that G? The only time I ever see you buy clothes is out of necessity in the middle of an op."

"I'm a busy man," G said innocently.

"When this is all over, I'm telling Hetty you need a new wardrobe."

Callen groaned. "Sam – that will cost me a small fortune. Do you know how much these jeans cost? Hetty's going to kill me because I ruined them."

"I'm sure she'll spare you once she finds out she gets to take you shopping," Sam said gleefully, and with one fluid motion, he slit the shirt down its side. It wasn't optimal, but it would work as a sling. He scooted closer to Callen and without asking, he moved.

In short order, he had found the break in G's arm, tucked it against his partner's chest, and then immobilized it to the best of his ability by forming a tight sling around G's neck.

Callen was silent the entire time, but Sam could see his jaw set in a tight line in the filtered light and could see the toll it was taking on his partner. When he finally finished, G sagged against the tree trunk behind him, and Sam realized he hadn't even noticed how rigid Callen had been holding his body.

"You ok?"

"Define ok," Callen replied, his voice tight.

"Don't give up on me now, G."

"No one said anything about giving up," his partner ground out. Sam nodded in approval.

In the next few minutes, he untied the t-shirt from around Callen's leg and found that the wound was still bleeding slowly. There wasn't much he could do, so he retrieved the towel he'd used earlier to protect his hands from the glass, and carefully re-wrapped the gunshot wound, being careful not to make it too tight – just enough to hopefully stem the bleeding.

As soon as he was finished, he lifted G's shirt without asking for permission and peered at his partner's chest where a diagonal bruise was vivid against the skin where the seatbelt had cut across. Sam imagined he had much the same bruise – but what worried him were some individual bruises along G's right side – potentially broken ribs which might have accounted for the raspy breathing he was hearing.

It was then that he realized that G hadn't even protested about being more thoroughly examined, and Sam's eyes darted up to his partner's face. He'd been so focused on what he was doing, he hadn't noticed how still Callen had become.

If it was possible, Callen was paler than before and his eyes looked glassy as they drooped toward closing.

"Oh no G – you said you weren't giving up. You need to stay awake. Remember that concussion we talked about?" Sam asked, dropping Callen's shirt and reaching up to grasp his left shoulder.

"Not giving up…" G murmured his voice sounding like he was trying to speak from under water. "Sam? Sorry…"

"Sorry?" Sam asked in confusion, concern turning to a ball of ice in his stomach. "What are you apologizing for? Just stay with me here G."

"Sorry…wasn't there…should have been… Sorry 'bout Mo," he muttered, and then his eyes slipped closed.

"G! Callen! Come on!" Sam said a little louder than he'd intended. He had a horrible flash back to when G had been gunned down. When he'd gotten to his downed partner, his eyes had been open – wide open. For a few seconds, he'd looked around, stunned and sad all at once, and Sam had begged G to stay with him while he'd called 911 – but then, Callen's eyes had slipped shut and it had been three weeks until Sam had seen them open again.

The time in between those two eye opening moments had been some of the most difficult of Sam's life. It was then that he'd realized just how important G Callen had become to him – how natural their partnership was – how good of friends they had become – how life simply wouldn't be the same if Callen was dead.

To Sam, sitting there in the dirt, it felt like that moment on the sidewalk all over again – only this time it was worse. This time he didn't have a cell phone and an ambulance wasn't on the way. One thing was for certain – G Callen apologizing was a very frightening, very worrying thing.


	6. Chapter 6

Well…hello. I apologize for the long delay. My muse just up and disappeared. This installment is perhaps a bit short, but a bridge for the rest of the story. I hope you enjoy.

Lady Winter

* * *

"G…seriously man, don't do this!" Sam demanded, forcing himself not to shake his partner. That would just cause unnecessary pain.

The silence stretched out for a long minute.

"G, I really need you to wake up," he urged again, but this time he was rewarded by the softest of groans.

"Just stop yelling," Callen murmured.

Sam heaved out a sigh of relief.

"Don't do that to me, man," he snapped, his voice a little harsher than he had intended. If Callen noticed, he didn't say so. Instead, he remained as still as he had been before, but now his eyes were open just a little.

"Could have just let me sleep," the agent added, sounding slightly offended.

"Are you being difficult on purpose? How many times do I have to tell you that you have a concussion?"

Callen didn't respond for a few moments, obviously gathering his wits.

"If I had a tape recorder, you'd be appalled at how much you sound like Hetty," he said, and tried to smile, but the effort looked like it was just too much.

Sam let out a long sigh. "I know you have a hard time accepting that people care about you, but that won't make it any less true."

Sam was rewarded with the tired eyes widening a little and caught a flicker of surprise pass over Callen's features. "That's not true Sam… I don't have a hard time accepting that people care about me," he protested weakly, his voice gravelly.

"I don't believe that," Sam said, a little anger in his voice.

"You just don't understand," G said softly. "I know you guys care – I just wish you didn't care so much."

Sam stared at him for long moment and he realized almost immediately that his partner was telling the truth. Like a wave crashing down on him, Sam suddenly understood more of what drove G. Above all, Sam knew that G Callen liked doing good – and avoiding hurting anyone he didn't have to. Being close to people – trusting people – opened up a world of chances that you could get a person hurt – physically or emotionally. Committing to anything more than a job was taking too much of a risk for G. Having people in his life that genuinely cared about him was like setting himself up to lose them or hurt them.

Gently, he smiled at G. "I know you like to control everything, but you can't force people not to care about you."

G grumbled something unintelligible that might have been something along the lines of he'd find a way someday. Sam just chuckled.

"I know we've been talking super-heroes, but you really aren't Clark Kent, so let's work on the possible for now, alright?"

"Like getting out of here before we're embarrassed by being rescued by Deeks?" Callen murmured.

"Yeah, like that. We'll never hear the end of that."

"We need a plan," G said, obviously trying to focus. Sam nodded, but couldn't help but think his partner looked worse for the wear. "Hetty's got to be looking for us. We need to find a way to tell her where we are." His eyes darted around for a moment and landed on the path of destruction that the Challenger had caused. "How are you feeling Sam?" he asked suddenly.

"I know where this is going G, and you can forget it," the Navy SEAL said quickly, crossing his arms over his aching chest. "I'm not leaving you down here."

Callen gave him a long suffering look. "I know you don't want to leave me – I haven't been missing all of your subtle hints that two are better than one. I'm not trying to be heroic here – but if you can climb that hill and flag down a passing car, we'll be getting out of here much sooner."

Sam glared at G. It infuriated him that his partner could make the situation sound so logical and obviously necessary.

G gave him what Sam was sure was supposed to be a reassuring smile. To Sam though, it looked like a painful grimace. "You'll only be gone a few minutes. I can't walk – so there's no way I can make that climb, and you know it."

"I hate it when you're so reasonable," Sam growled. "Normally that's my job – I'm the voice of reason and you're the one with the stupid ideas. This is still stupid," he said petulantly.

Callen chuckled. "But it's also reasonable."

"What are you going to do if…if…" Sam stumbled, trying to think of an argument. "…if some wild animal comes down here, attracted by all that blood and tries to…eat you?"

G actually had the gall to snort in amusement, after which he immediately flinched in pain from the effort. He recovered quickly enough, gesturing to the Sig that was lying on his outstretched left thigh.

"Just what kind of animal is going to come eat me Sam?"

"I don't know, a wolf or something," the dark-skinned man replied, flustered.

"Then I'll shoot it and we can finally eat something. I'm starving!" the senior agent reminded his partner.

Sam refused to be baited by G. "And what about your concussion? You seem to have a serious issue of not following my directions of staying awake."

"I'm awake now, aren't I?" G said innocently. Sam groaned.

"Just how am I going to explain to Hetty that I broke protocol and left my injured partner who then got eaten by some wild animal?"

"Easy, just tell her that I made you do it."

"You're not helping things here G."

The injured agent sighed. "Look Sam, we both know that if we just sit down here, waiting for help, it may never come. We have no way of knowing if there are any signs of the accident up on the road. You know I hate to admit it, but I'm not…going to make it down here for too long. I know this goes against all of your training and your gut instinct, but I think you have to agree that it might be the only way we're both getting out of here alive. You need medical attention too."

"I hate to admit it when you're right," Sam said unhappily.

G looked relieved that his partner was finally on the same page, and with that relief came a look of exhaustion.

"Promise me you're going to stay awake," Sam pleaded.

"I know…I know…I have a concussion. I'll stay awake. You just find help."

Sam hesitated a moment before, hating this idea again. "G…"

"Sam," Callen deadpanned. "I will do my absolute best to stay awake. Scout's honor."

"You were never a Scout," Sam growled softly, but nodded. "Fine. I'll be back. Soon," he said, emphasizing the last word to let G know that he was expected to be awake when Sam returned.

"I'll be right here," G joked. The former SEAL rolled his eyes and turned to go, but was stopped by his partner. "Hey Sam…" There was a serious tone to G's voice that made the man turn to meet blue eyes. "Be careful. I know you're hiding the hurt as much as I am."

Sam was stunned for a moment. He didn't know why – it wasn't as if he didn't know that G Callen was almost as perceptive as Hetty was. Still, even Sam didn't really think he was hiding the worst of his own aching injuries – it was more training than anything. That set the two men apart. G hid his pain as a matter of pride and a long standing belief that being alone in life meant you took care of yourself and didn't show weakness. Sam hid his pain to carry on – a SEAL never gave up and injury was just par for the course.

"I will be," he finally assured Callen.

G nodded a little, obviously satisfied with the sincerity in his partner's voice.

Sam smiled and shook his head a little, and moved off into the darkness, feeling lucky that the moon was full and that even through the trees, the ground was visible. As he moved off, slowly but shortly, he glanced once more over his shoulder.

Callen had collapsed back against the tree, looking exhausted, but on guard. His left hand was wrapped around the hilt of the Sig and his eyes were alert. Sam was relieved.

Satisfied, he started his ascent, hoping this decision would bring the two of them that much closer to getting out of this alive.


End file.
